Reprieve
by DracoxHermion3
Summary: "You'll what, Hermione? What can you possibly do to scare me? What can you possibly do to have me at your mercy while you are obviously at mine? Hmm? If you haven't forgotten, I own you now. You are mine. And you will be, for the rest of your life." He grabbed her wrist and pushed her roughly against the wall, "And no amount of tears will ever dissuade me from claiming you..."
1. Chapter 1

**Hullo Hullo Hullo! Yes, I am starting another multi-chapter fic, but don't worry, I will not be ignoring ASITD, in face, I will be updating that on Wednesday, so be on a lookout for that. But yeh, I present to you a Marriage!Dramione Fic, and I hope you guys like it. And if you do, then please, PLEASE, leave a review because y'all suck at that. I mean I love you, but it doesn't take too long to leave a review/compliment/whatever else. So yeah, if you do I'll give you a truckload of digital choco chip cookies. ahaha Anyway, hope you enjoy it, love ya 3**

 **XxDracoxHermion3**

 **Reprieve**

 **Chapter 1: Worst Day of Her Life**

Who would have thought that war heroine, brightest witch of her age, and world-renowned Muggle-born Hermione Granger would be bedecked in an ivory, sickly elaborate, fully tailored wedding gown? Well, anyone really. But for whom she was walking down the aisle for…now that was the element of surprise. Confusion. The whole ordeal of 'How could she do such a thing?' But you're probably wondering, what is she doing that is causing such major confusion and horror?

Oh, right, today is the day when Hermione Granger weds the one and only, Draco fucking Malfoy.

Cameras flashing. People peering over each other's shoulders to watch the blushing bride walk down to her very soon-to-be husband. So many people. People she could only recognize as past Death Eaters, but for the most part these faces were unknown to her.

Which just added to her already profound nerves.

 _Why is this bloody dress so heavy? Why is it backless? Why. Are. People. Staring. At. Me. Why is this happening to me?_ All thoughts running through her head at this very moment, as she gracefully treads down the very, very, long emerald green runner on the arm of Lucius Malfoy (since even her own parents weren't invited, nor were they even told that their own daughter was getting married, nonetheless to her childhood tormentor).

Hermione kept her chin high and her posture straight, telling herself that she doesn't need to look all small and frail for these Pureblood supremacists. Even though her potential in-laws claimed they cared no longer for such things. _Hah_ , she scoffed, _yeah right._

And because she was so lost in her thoughts, she didn't even realize that they had reached the altar and were now taking their places as the Wizarding-whatever-priest-guy, Hermione reckoned that he was probably an Auror, stepped up to his podium. He raised his hands and the whole hall went silent, and all the guests took their seats.

She didn't know she was so nervous, because when she was asked to join hands with Malfoy, she found herself trembling immensely as she lifted her shaking limbs. Hermione sucked in a shaky breath as their hands came in contact, yet she refused to look at _him_. _Blubbering, slimy, manipulative little git,_

Malfoy had the audacity to smirk as he rubbed circles on her knuckles, a mocking gesture to comfort. And he couldn't help but look her up and down. The dress his mother had designed was looking rather fetching on his bride. It accentuated her curves in all the right places, showed the perfect amount of her creamy, slightly freckled skin, and emphasized her natural beauty. The ivory color brought out the gold in her eyes, the eyes he had so much fallen in love with.

But, even though she was truly selling the blushing bride look, he could tell that she was scared beyond her wits. And he could also tell that she was keeping a façade to cover it because, well, she's a bloody Gryffindor. He gripped her hand tighter and watched as her brow scrunched in pain. He smirked again _. This is going to be fun._

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the country, we are gathered here today for the holy matrimony of Draco Abraxas Malfoy and Hermione Jean Granger." There was slight applause, and Hermione trembled even more.

"Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, know now before you go further, that since your lives have crossed in this life, you have formed eternal and sacred bonds. As you seek to enter this state of matrimony you should strive to make real the ideals that to you, give meaning this ceremony and to the institution of marriage. With full awareness, know that within this circle you are not only declaring your intent to be hand fasted before your friends and family, but you speak that intent also to your creative higher powers. The promises made today and the ties that are bound here greatly strengthen your union and will cross the years and lives of each soul's growth. Do you still seek to enter this ceremony?"

"Yes," spoke the confident, slightly malicious, voice of Malfoy.

Hermione hesitated as she stared at their conjoined hands, not finding it within her to agree to this disgusting, rather _unholy_ , bondage. Tears blurred and un-blurred her vision, threatening her right here, in front of some of the most influential Pureblood families of Wizarding Britain. She glanced at the pale, blond man in front of her, and he gave her a stern look with a tight jaw, digging his nails into her palm. Hermione stared at him through her lashes and whimpered silently.

"Y-yes."

* * *

The after party was horrible. Absolutely migraine-inducingly bad.

And she thought the actual wedding ceremony was bad.

Malfoy had stubbornly placed his hand on the bare small of her back, adamant in keeping it there as he whisked her away from one family to the other. "Ah, Mrs. Zabini," he said, shoving Hermione in front of him, pressing his front to her backside, watching her visibly stiffen, "meet my wife, Hermione _Malfoy_. Hermione, love, this is Mrs. Zabini, Blaise's mum." Hermione smiled, offering a small embrace to the beautiful dark-skinned woman before her. "It's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance. Mal- _Draco_ , here, speaks fondly quite fondly of you." The woman chuckled, "Oh, Draco, you charming lad. You've chosen quite a lovely bride. Well-spoken and clever. Not to mention rather beautiful. Take care of her, hmm?"

"Of course, Mrs. Zabini. I strive _only_ to make _her_ happy," Hermione scoffed at that, and Malfoy noticed, "What was that, love?"

Hermione plastered a fake grin on her face, "Oh nothing at all, _dear_. I was thinking about…hah, never mind that." Draco raised a brow at her, scrutinizing.

"Well, if we're done here, I believe dinner is ready."

* * *

Dinner was the worst.

She thought the wedding was bad.

She thought the after party was bad.

No, no. those paled in comparison to the hellish dinner party that was served at the Manor. Her mouth was nearly cramping by the time it was over, having smiled falsely to so many people all night. Her body ached from the weight of the lacy, multi-layered, and extremely long wedding gown. Her head pounded with an excruciating migraine, feeling as if all of her knowledge was all muddled together. She just wanted to take this bloody thing off and go to bed.

Bed sounded so nice until she remembered where she was.

 _I won't be going home anytime soon… I won't be seeing my friends…they all hate me…I have no one…_

And…cue the waterworks. Tears silently traveled down her face and fell onto her dress, and she felt her chest constricting. Constricting with hate, anguish, despair, anger, revenge. All emotions compacted so tightly she could feel herself fighting the ability to breathe.

"I want…my own room."

"What?"

"You heard me, Malfoy! I want my own room!"

"Hermione-"

"Don't call me that! My name sounds like a bloody curse on your tongue. Don't you ever say my name again or I swear to Merlin I'll-"

"You'll what, _Hermione_? What can you possibly do to scare me? What can you possibly do to have me at your mercy while _you_ are obviously at _mine_? Hmm? If you haven't forgotten, I _own you_ now. You are _mine._ And you will be, for the _rest_ of your life." He grabbed her wrist and pushed her roughly against the wall, "And no amount of tears will ever dissuade me from claiming you," he whispered huskily, running one cool thumb along her trail of tears. She shuddered visibly, sucking in small, panted breaths.

"Don't cry, love. Tears don't suit your pretty face."

She spat at him, right on his perfectly sculpted cheek, "I hate you."

He chuckled darkly, wiping away the wetness from his face with the back of his hand. "We'll see…"

"Draco! What on Earth are you doing to her! Let go of her, you fool."

He clenched his jaw and glared at Hermione, letting go of her wrist and stepping back. "Sorry, mother."

"You better not do that again, Draco. Imbecile. You should learn to cherish your beautiful wife, not hurt her." The slender woman turned to her Daughter-in-law, "Oh, Hermione, dear, I am so sorry. I should have warned you about his over compulsiveness."

"I am _more_ than aware of it, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Mother, dear. You can call me mother."

Hermione stared at the gorgeous blonde woman in front of her in awe, then nodded curtly, "Right. Mo-Mother." Narcissa smiled warmly, "Good, now, is there anything you need before bedtime?"

Hermione glanced at her _husband_ , seeing him tightly shake his head, and smirked, "Actually, yes, there is. See, I believe in order to contain his compulsiveness, I should seek slumber in a separate bedroom."

Narcissa looked perplexed, "Um…yes, of course. We have got plenty of rooms. How about one in the East Wing with Draco? Just in case you need something."

"That'll be fine, thank you."

Narcissa nodded, embracing her daughter-in-law with such kindness and warmth that Hermione was left pondering how Draco could possibly be the child of such a loving woman.

"If that'd be all for the time being, I believe it'd be best if I retire now," she gripped Hermione's hand and leaned in, whispering, "Lucius is probably waiting for me. The wedding and all of today's festivities have tired us both out. Goodnight, Hermione. Rest well, children." And with a haughty flip of her shimmery hair, Narcissa Malfoy strode out of the East Wing.

"Difficult to believe that you're her son."

Malfoy sneered at her, advancing towards his newly wedded bride, encaging her against the wall and his arms. His voice was scarily low when he spoke, and for a minute there Hermione was actually frightened. Her breath hitched in the back of her throat and she shuddered again as she felt the cold wall touch the bare skin of her back.

"Listen to me, Granger. If you want our deal to stay intact then you better learn to control yourself and stop using that overly knowledgeable brain of yours. Otherwise I'll have no choice other than to use force on you. And I have no intention of doing that, though it does sound very enjoyable, whatsoever, unless you leave me no other choice. So, fine, get your own bloody room but you will not meander your way out of what I command you to do _ever_ again. Because as your husband, _I_ have the ability to make choices for you and _nothing_ will stop me from exercising my will upon my wife."

Hermione winced, digging herself closer to the wall as to get as far away from his face as possible. She could feel his hot breath tickle her ear and could pinpoint the intoxicating smell of his expensive cologne. "I thought I was a Malfoy now, huh?"

He smirked, a shadow of darkness clouding his eyes intermixed with a look of pure lust, and pushed himself off the wall. At the sudden loss of support Hermione felt her knees buckle and she ungracefully fell forwards, as if bowing down to the younger Malfoy before her. She twisted her ankle in the process, feeling the pain reverberate up her calf. She grimaced in discomfort and tried to get up, but to no avail. She plumped back down on her knees and felt hot tears prickle her eyes again. It hurt so damn much.

He shook his head, "Tsk, tsk. See what happens when you disrespect your husband? Pain and discomfort." He bent at the waist and used his hands to lift her off the floor. But of course, he was a lusty newly-wedded man, and seeing his wife on her hands and knees in front of him, with her bare back right in his view, he couldn't help the array of wonderful images as they flickered in his mind. He pressed slow, intimate traces over her spine, her skin so, so soft, and lifted her up into his arms. She gasped at the sudden sensation and then winced again as the pain in her ankle became renewed.

"You creep."

"I'm _your_ creep."

"Disgusting…"

He laughed.

"Now darling, how about we pick your room?"

"I don't care what it looks like, so long as it's away from _your_ creepy arse," she rolled her eyes.

He laughed again, "As you wish, _my lady_."

"Ugh."

"I could drop you now, you know. Just like…" he then pretended to let go of her, just a smidge, "...this." At the sudden feeling of fear and adrenaline, Hermione latched her arms around his neck tightly and dug her face against his neck. Her heartbeat was skyrocketing and she felt like punching him in his perfect, straight teeth.

"You are such an arse," she mumbled against his neck, her voice slightly muffled. Her hot breath tickling the sensitive spot behind his earlobe and his eyes rolled back into his head at the slight pleasure he received from her small act.

 _Bloody hell, she's gonna kill me._

* * *

He laid her on the king sized bed of the bedroom that _he_ chose for _her_ and her dress draped over and pooled around the edge of the bed. Her eyes were fluttering shut, her breaths deepening. He stared at her, taking in the absolute angelic presence she brought on. Her blood-red, slightly pouted lips, the little curve of her nose, her pale, milky white face dotted with freckles, and her long, dark lashes brushing against the tops of her cheeks. It was now when Draco realized that she was wearing minimal makeup on her face, except for some red lipstick and a thin coat of mascara.

 _She is so bloody beautiful_ , he thought to himself.

Especially in that tasteful dress that brought out her shapely curves, her long, slightly toned but mostly thin arms that were covered in lace, and his wedding band which lay around her dainty ring finger.

He felt a slight tightening around his navel. Lust clouded his senses and he had the greatest urge to just take her right there in her half-dozed state. But no, he was a man of virtue, bound by his lady, to his lady. He would not engage in such activity unless she was willing and fully alert. Now she could pass as a drunk woman on a hangover. No, he would not take advantage over her like this. Even though his lesser half just…wanted…a…peek behind her skirts.

 _Damn you, hormones._

He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, studying the geography of her body, her skin, her face. Anywhere where he could get his eyes on. Until she stirred, and he was brought back to reality from his reverie.

"…my…head…"

He leaned towards her, and when that didn't work he kneeled next to her bedside and clasped her hand in between his. "What was that, love?"

"…head…hurts…"

His eyes widened in worry and he quickly stood up, "Wizzel!"

With a resounding _crack_ a stuttering little house-elf appeared before him, "Y-yes? Master Draco requires Wizzel's assistance?"

He nodded curtly, "Get Mistress Malfoy a pain reducing potion. She's gotten a massive migraine."

"Yes, s-sir. Wizzel will be here in just a second," and with another _crack_ the elf was gone.

Draco peered down to look at his flushed bride and, with unbridled ecstasy, sat himself down next to her sleeping form, running his hands down her arm more intimately than she'd probably ever allow. He inhaled her sweet scent, letting it get absorbed into his senses. He just had this urge to pin her underneath him and snog her senseless, but with yet another _crack_ the house-elf reappeared.

"H-here y-you go, Master," Said Wizzel, who graciously held out small, shaking hands before her master, in which lie a little vial of a midnight blue liquid. He nodded to the elf and she disappeared once more.

He strode towards Hermione again, unstoppering the flask and bringing it to her lips; he lifted her head slightly and her brows fused into an annoyed expression- annoyed and discomforted. And instantly the creases of her brows faded, and she looked relaxed for the first time since the day started.

The only problem was that she was asleep.

In her dress.

Her _wedding_ dress.

Which was bloody heavy and long and, though it was soft and made of the finest material, looked like a menace to sleep in. he drew out his wand and waved it, transfiguring her dress into one of his long-sleeved t-shirts with the Slytherin crest, and a pair of green silk pajamas made to fit her. He stepped back and admired his work, for she looked mighty fine in emerald green, and _in his_ shirt.

He smirked again.

He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead and placed her wand quietly on the side table. Pulling the covers over her small frame, he smiled again and then dimmed the lights with his wand.

Making his way towards the door so that he could retire in his own room, he glanced back at his slumbering bride and grinned.

 _Oh this is going to be very fun._


	2. Chapter 2

**Wassup my dudes? So, here is the next chapter of Reprieve, brought to you as quickly as possible because of all your wonderful comments/reviews. See? When you guys leave a comment I actually feel good about writing so I get the chapter out to you guys earlier! Whoop! Keep those amazing reviews coming and I'll deliver more quickly!**

 **Love, XxDracoxHermion3**

 **And as always, JKR is sweeter than Honeydukes :)**

 **Chapter 2: Mistakes**

She bolted out of bed as if it burned her skin. Her chest heaved with painful breaths as she tried to remember where she was.

Oh right, _she_ was at her new _home_ , Malfoy Manor.

It was still dark, she could tell; the silver wisps of moonlight splayed across the wooden floor. The distant call of what she categorized as a Werewolf filled the silence. Slowly she eased out of bed as her labored breathing stabilized, swinging her legs over the edge and easing her feet into a pair of Malfoy crested slippers. She scoffed at the lousy display of their swank. _Bloody aristocrats_.

She shook her head and then stood up, feeling so much lighter in her…

Wait.

Wait a minute…in her black long sleeved Slytherin t-shirt and silk green pajamas? _What the fuck_? _When did that even…_

Her eyes narrowed,

 _Malfoy_.

She growled to herself and swung a pearlescent robe over her night clothes, vowing to wreak havoc in his world in the morning. She tightened the ribbon secure around her waist and strode to the door, suddenly feeling the need for air. Despite the unnecessary grandeur of her bedroom, she felt herself growing increasingly claustrophobic. She cracked the door open slightly, wand in hand, and proceeded to tiptoe out into the hallway.

" _Lumos_ ," she whispered nearly silently.

Her wand lit up at its tip and she began walking, making sure to not 'accidentally' bump into any expensive busts of Ancestral Malfoys. She shuddered at the thought of Narcissa Malfoy finding her daughter-in-law amidst the remains of marble sculptures. Hermione shook her head once more and was on her way again. Maybe to the kitchen, maybe to the garden, who knew. She just needed to get the bloody hell away from that blond, slimy little git. She sauntered down hallways, alcoves, more passageways, even more hallways, _bloody fucking hell why is this house a maze_ , and somehow, by the grace of Merlin she was able to find the mansion-sized kitchen. Hermione stood in the doorway for a bit, just taking it all in with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. _Hah, no wonder Malfoy thought he owned Hogwarts…_

She crept to the island and pulled out a stool from underneath the counter, plopping down ungracefully on it and placing her elbows on the dark granite. She gazed about the room, its intricacy matched to the rest of the home. Malfoy Manor was no doubt an architectural feat, it was sickly beautiful, much to Hermione's chagrin. The house screamed Victorian era architecture- from its high rooves to the finesse of the columns and pillars, to the dark richness of the furnishings. Yet even in its obvious beauty, Hermione couldn't help but feel engulfed in dark magic. She couldn't help the wave of memories flood her mind as she heard the remnants of her own screams as she writhed upon their living room floor. She couldn't help thinking about all of the blood that was spilled on that carpet.

She shuddered, feeling hot tears prick her eyes. The eerie silence didn't help either. The screams only got louder. She pushed herself away from the counter and stumbled backwards, feeling her back impact with cold stone. Her breaths became panicked again, and she _just knew_ she had to get out of here.

She started walking again, trying to find a door that would lead to the outside world. A world where her cries weren't ringing in her ears.

She finally found a set of large double-doors and pushed them open, feeling the cool, wintery wind blow against her bare skin and face.

It felt so damn good.

She slowly walked out, following the curves of the path in the garden as the moon lit passage for her. It was bitingly cold, the wind piercing her skin through her thin robe. Yes, it was unpleasant, but it was worth it.

She felt free again.

Hermione closed her eyes and _just breathed_ , feeling her nostrils clear up and oxygen flow through her body. She could feel herself becoming lighter just by being away from that dastardly house. But as reality came crashing down, she couldn't stop the fleet of emotions that were clawing their way out.

Pain.

Sorrow.

Hate.

Anger.

Confusion.

But most of all, pain.

She wrapped her arms around herself and continued her journey through the gardens. Walking and walking until she came across a small, dainty little gazebo in the center of it all. She climbed the few stairs and then braced herself against the railing. Closing her eyes, she let herself breathe again.

"Fancy seeing you here."

She jumped, gasping loudly as she swung around to face the owner of that voice. Gripping her wand so tight that her knuckles whitened immensely, her shoulders relaxed slightly and she lowered her wand.

"What in the name of Circe are you doing here, Malfoy?"

He chuckled, "Seems to me that I am here for the same reason you are, can't sleep. For some reason, even though I am now married, my bed is still empty. Plus it is a rather cold night," he began stalking towards her, with a low kind of swagger that made her tremble, and she backed away from him. One step forward, one step back until she could feel his warm breath graze her icy skin. "…and there's no one to help me warm up. Even though now, _as a married man_ , I have a wife that could give me the warmth I lack." He stroked her face with the back of his hand, "and by the looks, and _feel_ , of it, you are on the same broom as me."

She glared at him, emitting another cold bark of laughter from him. "I thought you wouldn't want a _Mudblood_ dirtying up your pride by touching your things. Huh? Or are you still like a horny teenager just trying to find a way in my knickers? Because believe me, Malfoy, you are not going to fool me by saying none of that 'blood prejudice' matters to you anymore. Because I know, I _know_ , that you will never let that go, ever."

He regarded her words carefully, feeling a twinge of anger at her use of _that_ term, but he shrugged it off. Sure, it didn't suit her pretty mouth but at the same time she was kind of right. Yes, he _was_ prejudiced but really, not anymore. Or at least that's what he told himself. But when it came down to her, this beautiful, sexy, feisty, fiercely intelligent witch, he couldn't help but put blood aside and just think about her. Think about how phenomenal of a witch she is. Think about the way her eyes lit up when she became cross. Think about the way her hips… okay, Draco, none of that now.

But really, she had that effect on him.

She made him forget her lineage, she made him forget the years of torment he rained upon her, she made him forget how truly selfish he is.

But right now, what she failed to make him forget was how bloody amazing she looked in that innocent outfit. The ribbon fastened around her middle outlined her small waist, bringing out her other curves even under his shirt which, considering who it belongs to, was so large on her. Her hair was falling out of the elegant updo it was in for their wedding, a few stray curls framing her beautiful face. The little diamonds and emeralds which were placed in her mass of curls were shimmering brightly under the pale moonlight. And he had to admit, even in this simplistic state of dress she looked like a goddess from the heavens.

He had to suppress the tightening of a certain part of his anatomy. _Ahem._

"Well?"

He was sucked back into reality, "Hmm?"

She defiantly placed her hands on her hips, an action he found rather adorable, and sighed, "What, no snarky comment? No rebuttal? No rebuke? Why are you staring at me like that, you oaf?"

He smirked, "Well, to answer one of your questions, because you look irresistible and I just want to push you against that pillar over there and take you until you scream my name over and over…"

She blushed a deep red and her eyes widened, obviously unsettled by his confession. She slowly crept further away from him.

"I'm a Mudblood."

"I don't fucking care about that anymore."

"Yeah. Sure."

Rage bubbled inside him and he snapped, making her jump slightly in fear.

"That's it! I am done with your bullshit, Gra- _Malfoy_. I don't fucking care about what I used to label you as anymore because I've seen your blood. It's as red as mine. It's not fucking muddy or dark as my father used to describe it as. I've watched as you got fucking tortured on my living room floor by my lunatic aunt and I have seen her carve this," he grabbed her arm and pulled up her sleeve roughly, "into your arm."

 _Mudblood._

She felt tears prickle in her eyes again, yet lacked the courage to look him in the eye. She trembled and shuddered and winced all at once, as the memories came rolling back. She could still feel the stinging after-feel of the Cruciatus. She could still feel the curse from the blade radiating through her skin. She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and looked up at him with a look of fear, pain, and hurt.

He stared at her with wide eyes, "Granger, I...I'm..."

"I-I _hate_ you."

Tears spilled silently out of her eyes as she stared into his icy blue, molten silvery ones. For a split second she saw regret flicker in his orbs. But after hearing those truthfully cruel words, after reliving her worst times ever again, she ran.

She ran as fast as she could away from him. Far, far, far, until she got back to the Manor. Which after entering she bolted for her room. She slammed the door shut, and with a few waves of her wand she was able to successfully silencio it.

Hermione leaned against the door and slid down, burying her face in her hands as shuddering sobs wracked her body. She let herself be engulfed in her sorrows, feeling everything come alive from inside of her. From all feelings of anger to remorse and pain. Her face became blotched with red spots as her tears continued to cascade down her pale cheeks. What a wedding night. Just absolutely fucking perfect.

She hated him. Full heartedly hated him. Everything from his stupid pretty face to his stupid pretty hair to his stupid money to his stupid everything. She hated how he had so slyly created the perfect circumstances so that she'd marry him. She hated how bloody cruel he was.

But most of all,

She hated how he broke her heart.

How he destroyed everything she had ever worked for.

How he was able to snatch her from her loved ones and break their bonds.

She _completely_ _despised_ Draco Malfoy.

* * *

After nearly an hour of silent crying, Hermione fell into a fitful sleep, compiled of an even more fitful sequence of dreams…

 _"_ _Ron."_

 _"_ _Ron!"_

 _"_ _Ronald Weasley!"_

 _"_ _Bugger off, Hermione. Or should I just call you Malfoy now since you're_ _so_ _in love with him now."_

 _She shook her head, "Ron that's…that's nothing," she replied in a desperate tone. "Please, just try to understand m-"_

 _"_ _Understand what, Hermione? That you broke up our engagement to run off and get_ _married_ _to that ferret? What the blubbering hell, Hermione! How could you do that to me? To us? To mum, to Ginny, to Harry?_

 _We were all so happy and excited and there you go running in and declaring your love for Draco fucking Malfoy! What the hell was that even about?"_

 _"_ _Ron please-"_

 _"_ _NO! That's enough. I don't want to hear any of your pity make-up stories. Because you're a fucking liar, Hermione. A liar and a traitor and I_ _never_ _want to see your face ever again!" He turned around, practically shoving her out of the Burrow and slamming the door in her face. Not even noticing the silent trails of tears leaking from her eyes._

 _She slammed her fist against the door, "Ron!"_

 _No answer._

 _"_ _Ron, PLEASE!"_

 _Nothing._

 _She slid down the door, pounding on it, her fists bloodying up at her continued failed attempts. Tears blurred her vision and she wailed outside of the comfortable home she had grown to love._

 _"_ _Ron! Open the door…please," her voice trailed off and she leaned her forehead against the cool wood, "…please."_

 _She sat at the foot of the door for who knows how long, before she felt a cold hand touch her shoulder. She jumped at the sudden contact and looked up, her cheeks damp with tears and her hand crusted with dried blood._

 _"_ _Come, Hermione. Let's go home," spoke a soft voice._

 _The voice belonged to Draco Malfoy._

"RON!"

* * *

Draco stood outside, leaning against the railing of the gazebo in the garden. The cool winds howled in the wintery night and specks of snow began to pollute the grass around him. He took a deep breath once, twice, and finally a third time before he finally screamed in frustration. His fists balled up at his sides and he kicked the bench that sat in the corner. He screamed again and then ran an annoyed hand through his baby soft hair.

"Fuck."

He had realized, as he watched Hermione's retreating form run into the Manor that maybe, just maybe his over compulsiveness struck again. He realized that perhaps his actions were a bit too personal, considering the rough history that his wife shared with his home. He rubbed his nape as he remembered that truly awful night. After which he had trouble sleeping at night. Her screams were so raw, so pleading and desperate and he did _nothing_. Nothing to help her. He just stood there and watched as his aunt carved into her perfect skin. He grunted at the memory and shooed it away from his mind.

Draco grasped the railing and watched as the snow became heavier, taking it as his sign to retire back to his bedroom. He swore under his breath as he followed the path back to the Manor.

"God fucking dammit, you idiot."

He haphazardly sauntered through the East Wing, past his own door, and down the hallway to Hermione's room. He felt a wave of magic envelop him as he neared the area around it - she definitely warded it. No matter, this was his house, he was a Malfoy and it _obeyed him_. With a simple utterance of 'finite' the wards were let down and he reached for the knob.

She locked it.

He knocked on the door quietly, "Granger."

No answer.

" _Granger,_ " he said with a bit more force.

Silence.

"Hermione?"

Nope.

He raked his hand through his tresses and sighed, coming to the conclusion that she had probably fallen asleep by now. But what he didn't know was that his wife was fully awake - hearing his knocking and calls for her - silently weeping into her pillow, staring at the wall in front of her.

With another guilty sigh, Malfoy finally retreated into his own chambers for the night, in attempt to at least receive a few hours of rest.

Merlin, what a night.

* * *

 **Sorry for such a short chapter, this one is kind of a filler, not really, but I promise next chapter will be much more :)**

 **Much love, and please review**


	3. Chapter 3

**Rewrote this chapter because of awesome people like oliviilskov. Thank you my love, for making me realize that I should have just gone with my initial gut feeling! In this chapter Hermione has to make some tough decisions...desperate times call for desperate measures...**

 **Chapter 3: Reunions and Reservations**

She didn't come out of her room the next day.

Or the day after that.

Or…the day after that.

After around day six Narcissa grew impatient, and stormed right up to Hermione's bedroom. Knocking lightly on her door at first, she waited until she heard shuffling inside of the room. But the door remained shut. She sighed, knocking a bit more loudly on the door. "Hermione, dear?"

"I don't want to see you, Narcissa."

"Oh sweetheart, please let me in."

"Nuh-uh."

"Hermione, if you don't open the door I'll have no choice but to forcefully enter your quarters. But that is not the Lady Malfoy way, and I would hate to intrude so hastily. So please darling, let me in."

There was a slight pause in which Hermione pondered her proposal, and thinking it best to not have her door blown off its hinges, replied quickly, "Who else is with you?"

"It is just me, dear."

"Promise?"

"Absolutely."

She heard the clicking of the lock, and taking it as her sign to enter, Narcissa entered the room slowly. She darted her head around the darkened chambers, allowing her specialized nose to adjust to the absolute horrid scent of tears and body odors.

"Oh, sweet girl, this is unacceptable."

Hermione groaned from somewhere near the back of the room.

Narcissa cautiously maneuvered herself towards the two sets of French doors on the east side of the room and pushed them open without a second thought. The pale light of the gray-covered skies showered into the blackened abyss and lit it up drastically, while also draining out that god awful scent and replacing it with the crispness of the wintery winds. The Malfoy matriarch inhaled a deep breath, smiled to herself, and swerved around gracefully. Her eyes coming into direct contact with her haggard daughter-in-law.

"What have you done to yourself?"

"Me? This is your precious son's doing!"

"Draco? What did he do now?"

"I wouldn't even know where to start," came Hermione's cold reply.

Narcissa was at a loss of words as she took in Hermione's distraught essence – her unruly hair piled up as an unkept mass on her head, her dresses littering the floor, accompanied with a destroyed wardrobe at her feet. Her body looking sickly and pale due to the lack of nourishment, her eyes lifeless and dead, her night pajamas hanging loose on her thin legs, her cotton jumper outlining her frail form. She, being the essence of fashion and glamour, nearly fainted at the state of the girl and the state of the room. Which coincided in its allure with the inhabitant of it.

Narcissa sighed, rubbing her temple with perfectly manicured hands. "The nerve of that boy. I shall scold him later, dear. How about now you join me in a well-deserved pampering, yes?"

Hermione gazed upon the beautiful woman with a look of dread before reluctantly nodding, drawing the conclusion that she did indeed look like hell. Narcissa offered her hand, and Hermione graciously took it.

Oh yeah, she deserved this.

* * *

Her mother-in-law treated Hermione to a blissful day at one of the most prestigious spas in Diagon Alley, followed by a casual shopping day with the charming lady. And in this span of a few hours, Hermione grew to admire her new mother. She was a wonderful conversationalist, graceful and beautiful, well-spoken, and, well, surprisingly loving. _Huh_ , Hermione thought, _who knew Malfoy's could feel?_

Narcissa whisked Hermione into Madame Malkin's, where she was displayed on a podium and properly measured, while Narcissa sat in a chair and sipped on perfectly aged red wine in a dainty glass.

"No, the color makes her skin look pallid. Next!"

"But Madam Malfoy, this color is the latest in all the Wizarding lands, dyed by hand in China!"

"I don't care for such a color, Genevieve, for it does not suit my daughter-in-law. When I say I do not like it, I expect you to accept it and move on. Understood?"

"Yes, of course Ma'am."

"Good, now if you don't have any other suggestions, I am loathe to admit that we shall seek shopping pleasures elsewhere, I have heard tha-"

"No! That is not needed. In fact…I think I may have the perfect thing," the young girl remarked gleefully before disappearing behind a rack of wedding gowns.

"Mother, I don't understand the point of this. The poor girl is only trying to help," said Hermione, talking to Narcissa's reflection through the mirror. Narcissa tutted in response, lowering her glass and rising from the loveseat.

"My dear, you should know that Malfoy's only want the best, and only want that which will make them stand amongst the crowd. I get all of our clothing tailored from Madame Malkin's personally so that not one other person in Britain may wear the same design as us. It is just the Malfoy way. And as your husband's mother, I need for my daughter-in-law to fit in, and look just as marvelous. Especially since the Minister's Winter Ball is this Saturday."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the thought, realization that this would be her first public appearance as the new Mrs. Malfoy setting in. The Minister's Winter Ball, this year being held by Kinglsey Shacklebolt, was an annual function held by the Ministry as a fundraiser. Nearly everyone was invited, and nearly everyone attended. And because of that, she was brought here in search of a gown for the evening. One that would both compliment and accentuate Draco's attire as well. The family theme this year was pearl white with accents of emerald. So, naturally, Hermione had two options- get a green or pearl dress. She knew for a fact that Draco's Chambray suit was of the finest material. Oh and, it was a creamy Dutch White color. Which was interesting considering that she'd never seen the man wear anything except for dark grays or black.

"Ah, Genevieve, that is absolutely gorgeous," she gasped upon seeing a marvelous set of robes floating through the air and towards Hermione. Genevieve smiled at the praise, and the robes floated and set themselves onto a mannequin in front of Hermione. She eyed the clothing with a keen eye, amazed and entranced all the while. The dress was rather simple compared to what Hermione had seen most Pureblood women wear, but it held its own gorgeous allure. The fabric was of a soft, fine chiffon, light and flowing. It had the most modest silver embroidery on the sleeves and bodice, and in its decorous nature, Hermione was entranced. The robes brought a whole new meaning to à la dernière mode. Hermione was so engulfed in its beauty that she didn't even notice the slight ringing of the doorbell and three new voices enter the store.

"Harry, the Ball is this weekend, I don't have enough time! Hopefully I can find a dr- well, well, well," spoke the first. "If it isn't for Hermione Gran- oh I'm sorry, _Malfoy_ with mummy Malfoy. How sweet."

Narcissa glared at the young Weasely girl, her motherly instinct of protection kicking into overdrive. But, since she was a woman of mannerisms and civility, plastered a smile onto her face and replied with a determined voice, "Good afternoon, Ms. Weasely. Such a coincidental turn of events. How are you?"

"Oh, we're fine, Malfoy. Perfectly peachy," replied Ron instead.

"Well I suppose that is a good thing then. Though I must say that your lack of manners is rather unbecoming. I would suggest that, when talking to your elders you use proper etiquette and respect. However, I shall let this one instance pass over."

Next to her confident mother-in-law, Hermione was a shaking ball of nerves, chewing ferociously on her bottom lip and throwing uncomfortable glances at her former best friends.

"Hermione, dear, won't you greet your friends," asked the Malfoy matriarch.

Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat and cracked a smile, "H-hello Harry, Ron…Ginny."

"Don't you dare talk to me, you filthy little traitor," spat Ron.

Hermione winced and Narcissa placed a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder, "Now that would be quite enough. Mr. Weasely. I will not have you insulting my daughter in such a plebeian way. I'm starting to wonder if your mother has taught you anything besides spewing hatred."

Ron nearly lunged himself at the prim woman before Harry restrained him, preventing him from causing an even bigger scene. "Not here, Ron," Harry placated.

"I apologize for his hotheadedness, Mrs. Malfoy. He's just a bit…upset with…certain things," Harry whispered, his eyes drifting towards Hermione as his words became slower.

"No matter, Mr. Potter. Now if you would please, I would just like to enjoy an afternoon with Hermione. And it seems as if you have upset her."

"Upset _her_? If anything she has bloody upset us! Me!" Ron yelled.

"Ron! Shut up!"

"Oh, let him talk Harry! He's not wrong! She's a disgusting traitor, a menace! And to think I called her my friend! To think she was even yours! I can't believe we were planning on bringing her into our family when the whole time she was just planning on being married into _theirs_. The whole pointy-faced and pale lot. The lot of Death Eaters-!"

"Enough," a new voice drawled.

Everyone whipped to see the owner of the voice and the trio's eyes widened as they took in the essence of Lucius Malfoy, who was watching them with a critical eye. The tension in the room grew considerably upon the addition of the Malfoy patriarch, everyone going completely silent. Hermione felt her eyes grow cloudy as her father-in-law gracefully walked to her side and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. She accepted the comforting gesture and quickly wiped away her tears, making sure to conceal her teary face from her former friends.

"Enough is enough. I am more than aware of my family's faults, most being my own. But I will not, under _any_ circumstance, allow for you to berate and undermine someone as magnificent as our Hermione."

Hermione's eyes grew wide and she glanced at the head of the Malfoy line, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

 _Our Hermione_.

In that moment, she realized that her new family was telling the truth. That blood mattered no more. That prejudice was a thing of the past. That acceptance was progress.

And Merlin, thought Hermione, that's a lot of progress.

Lucius rubbed her shoulder, staring at the befuddled trio before them. "I believe, Narcissa, that it is wise to take our leave. Plenty of damage has already been ensued."

Narcissa nodded and collected her things, whispering to Genevieve to have the clothing delivered to the Manor. Together, the three Malfoys strode towards the door, brushing past the others. As Hermione walked, Ginny scoffed at her.

"Bitch."

"Gin, stop. Please,"

The door shut close before she could hear the rest of the conversation.

* * *

The first thing Hermione did as the flames died down was drop her bags and run to her room, furiously brushing the tears that threatened to spill before they got to the Floo. Narcissa reached for her arm but missed by an inch, and the girl slithered out of her grasp. She sighed, turning her head to look at Lucius, who, just as she, held a face filled with concern. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head, sitting down on the nearest Chesterfield sofa.

"They're vile."

Lucius agreed, "It surprises me, they were the best of friends not too long ago, were they not?"

"I thought so, too. Say, darling?"

"Hmm?"

She hesitated before responding. "Draco never really told us why he wanted to marry Hermione, did he"

Lusius considered this for some time, fumbling with the memories in his mind. He rubbed his chin but ultimately shook his head. "No, I mean, he did, to an extent. Saying that she was the path to our redemption, our salvation. Are…are you trying to say that he might have had an ulterior motive?"

Narcissa twiddled her thumbs as she paced back and forth before the fireplace.

"No! No, I have faith in my son. Whatever his reason may be, I am certain that he did not go about this arrangement in a questionable way."

"Cissa, you do know who you're talking about, right?"

She turned and stared out the window, towards the darkening clouds, her brows furrowed in wonder and fear.

 _I sure hope so._

* * *

At quarter 'till seven, Hermione was woken by a knock on the door. She rubbed her eyes and sat up grudgingly, meeting an almost pitch-black room. Lightning struck and illuminated the room for a second, before plunging into darkness once more.

Hermione whimpered, she always had a terrible fear of storms. "C-come in."

The door quietly opened, revealing none other than husband dearest himself. She groaned inwardly and pulled a pillow onto her lap, watching him warily as he stepped closer to her. Once he reached the king sized bed, he stopped.

The room went silent.

He sighed and then sat himself on the edge of the mattress.

Rain began to splatter against the glass.

"I…heard."

Hermione stared at his back, feeling her eyes grow cloudy again.

"And you're here. For what? To make fun of me? To rub it in? To remind me that it's because of you they're like this? Well sorry to burst your egotistical bubble but you don't need to do any of that. I had more than I asked for earlier."

He was silent for a moment, before his shoulders slumped in defeat and he shook his head. "No, Hermione. I just…I actually came here to apologize, for…for last week. And the…the arm…thing," he swallowed uncomfortably and shut his eyes. "I just…I was angry. I was angry because you called yourself a Mud-," he stopped again, running a shaky hand through his fine, silvery-blond hair. "…because you called yourself something I used against you for six years. It made me realize how…absolutely wrong I was and, fuck…Will you forgive me?"

Hermione felt tears course down he cheeks in a silent trek, still focused on her husband's back.

"No."

He lifted his head and his eyes snapped open, before he swerved around and faced her.

She was taken aback when she found that his eyes were doused in unshed tears, that the tops of his cheeks were stained with blotches of crimson.

" _No?_ Why?"

"The fact that you have to ask yourself that is explanation enough. You just admit to being sorry for something that…that can't be healed with an apology. Put yourself in my shoes, Malfoy. How would you feel if someone dug up your painful past and displayed it just to make a point? That's what you did! I have to live with that every bloody day. The torture. Her wild laughter. The pain. The blood. All of it is _engrained_ into my mind and you thought it was a good idea to pull up my sleeve and remind me of what I am!"

"I-I-…"

"A-and not only that," she hiccupped, brushing away the tears with the heels of her palms, " _you ruined my life._ You destroyed everything that could have been. You…you ruined my relations with my friends. With my _best friends_ , Malfoy. The people that had become my second family! Because of your...your stupid personal vendetta. And you don't even feel regret, do you? Or remorse? Or sympathy for that matter? NO! You don't! Because you are the snobbiest prat I've ever known who knows nothing about respect. Or love. Or friendship."

He looked away in shame, anger rising in his chest.

"And you know what? I…I don't think I can carry out this deal anymore. I don't need your help if this is what it entails. I'll find my parents sooner by myself than if I stay here. I can't do this anymore."

Draco shook his head wildly, "No, you can't do that! A deal's a deal, Granger. You marry and give me an heir in exchange for information on your parent's whereabouts."

"YOU HAVEN'T GIVEN ME THAT INFORMATION!" She screamed.

"YOU HAVEN'T GIVEN ME THE TIME TO!" He rebuked.

She fumed and threw a pillow at his stupid, perfect face. "Now you do!"

He tossed the pillow haphazardly onto a chair and stood up, towering over her on the bed. Hermione would be lying if she said she wasn't terrified right now; his hair was slightly disheveled from the pillow onslaught, his eyes aflame with a burning intensity. When he spoke it was incredibly quiet, but Hermione wouldn't mistake his tone as gentle. She could practically feel his anger radiate off his skin.

"I will tell you when confirmation of _my heir_ in that blasted womb of yours is made."

"How dare you blackmail me!"

"A deal. Is. A deal. Take it or leave it sweetheart."

Her brows knit together in exasperation and she readied another pillow, this time attacking him full-on. Hit after hit of ruthless pillow smacks. After around eight feather-filled punches he grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms down, the pillow loosening and falling forgotten onto the floor.

"You're such an arse."

"I was trying to forge a mutual relationship by apologizing but obviously that was all for naught, you thickheaded woman!"

"Oh _I'm_ sorry for finding it difficult to accept your less-than-halfhearted apology." She squirmed in his grasp. "Let go of me!"

"No! Not until you listen to me!"

"Why should I listen to you?"

"Because as soon as you do what I'm going to tell you about the sooner you'll get to your parents."

Hermione stilled.

"Go on, then."

"Right. Well, as stated by our deal, you are to provide me with an heir. By the end of the month. Now, I've talked with my parents, and they say it's a good idea for me to take you to a honeymoon of sorts."

"ABSO-" he pressed his finger against her mouth, shushing her.

"Nuh-uh. You will let me finish, Hermione. We are going to go, whether you like it or not. But then again…if you choose not to comply then your parents' location remains with me. Now what's your choice?" he let go of her arms but remained rooted in his place, less than half a foot away from her, their chests barely touching.

She chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes darting about as she read over the situation at hand over and over in her mind. There were two possibilities, one obviously more desirable than the other. On one hand, if she agreed to these terms then she would find her parents much sooner. But then, on the other hand, even if she didn't agree, she could just go herself and continue her search. The only downside to that, however, is that no matter where she looked, or how long she looked, she wouldn't even get close to finding them.

So it was on this day, three months ago, when Draco Malfoy approached Hermione with this marriage proposition. Apparently, his job as head Auror granted him access to every documented magical being in Britain. And it was because of these circumstances that he came across Hermione's issue, and approached her with a remedy to it. And it was especially helpful since he knew exactly where they were, what with all his international connections and whatnot.

At first she outright rejected his proposal. But then…she thought. He could help her, and oh, how she needed the help. She'd been trying, to no avail, for months following the end of the Second Wizarding War to search for her parents. Her first course of action was obviously Australia, as that was where she had sent them off to. But she searched and scoured the land down under, obtaining no results. Monica and Wendell Wilkins seemed to have vanished off the face of the Earth, and Hermione was beginning to lose hope.

And so it was then she agreed to get married to the spoilt twerp, but little did she know at the time that this little decision to help her get her parents back would tear her relations with the ones she loved so dearly.

"I'll do it."

A beautiful smile spread across his face and he relaxed, exhaling a sigh of relief. Hermione stared in wonder, marveling at how innocent and well, _human_ he looked when he smiled. _He is not beautiful, Hermione. Nor is he innocent or human for that matter. Stop it_. She shook the thought out of her head.

"Good…good. Brilliant. Start packing, we leave tomorrow afternoon."

"Where are we going?"

"That, my love, is a surprise."

He winked at her. She rolled her eyes. He smirked. She huffed in annoyance. He gently took her hand and kissed her knuckles, his soft lips grazing her skin.

"Until then, au revoir, mon amour."

With a bow and an overly dramatic exit, Draco Malfoy vanished from her room.

Hermione fell back onto the bed and groaned into a down feather pillow.

"I hate that manipulative little git."

* * *

 **Heheh...yeah, I'm terrible, I know, I know. I haven't updated in months and for that I am utterly sorry. But hey, sophomore year is over! WOOOHOO I'M AN UPPERCLASSMAN NOW! And it is summer now so I'll have plenty of time to write and update my stories. For those of you who have stuck around, thank you so much! Have a big internet hug and digital cookie (it's freshly baked). Hope you all enjoyed the Narcissa and Lucius action in this chapter, as well as the confrontation with Hermione's fraaaahhhhnnnds. You WILL get answers soon, I promise. Love y'all! AND please tell me how this chapter was! did ya like it, did ya hate it? LEMME KNOOOOW 3**


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